Tuesday, February 01, 2005
About Me
- Name: Toe Knee
- Location: Newport, Midwest, United States
This site is 100% c.2k4 T.K.S. I grew up in a small town,large family. Humanitarians calling themselves christians, the faithful. Realized I was tuned to a slightly different frequency (creative self expression),so chose life as a re-alignment reality;focused on what was created, and still,still moving. Intention with vision just a little beyond material reality. I have always been an artist, but for me that is beyond the paintings I paint, the songs I write/sing and the tv show I create. It is just as much expressed through healing touch,tone,or a smile. I love to study people as they cross my path, or if I trip onto theirs... the semi-anonymous approach... showing up is 99%
Previous Posts
- time travelers through the public transportation o...
- John fitsimmons... the Ftiz, with his half shaved...
- Are these ripe, or what?
- Betsy Hall (artist) and Bruce Kriedler (artist), A...
- Three Amigos, Art Academy of Cincinnati, a Toe Kne...
- Tony Stenger, Charlie Laurel, Carol Hunner 1980......
- Drive way painting angels in the 21st century
- Kenny Kolter and Joel Arant. My Studio on west low...
- "Ancient Elder on fire". This chief/shaman is simu...
- "Stolen Indian" .
1 Comments:
Found Out Betsy runs a coffee shop. with her husband, and Mary Kummler... a good friend, long time no see. Betsy is a top notch painter, sells a few still. Good to hear. The world needs Betsy Hall paintings. we had a lot of friendly laughs to share. But that was/is Betsy. Nothing special to me. or so I say. one time, she let me weather a storm after the dnow fell and my motorcycle slid out from under me in rush hour traffic. Thanks Betsy. It got pretty damn quiet while I drank the fresh made tea and waited for my ride. Betsy was too much to handle in such a small place. I mean this in a good way. she filled up the space so huge, and there I was, trying not to notice it. Drinking my tea. Dreaming up a way to tell the story about my "wreck", that day. truth was/is, I was saved by alert motorists around me who slowed it all down, and hlepd me up out of the street. It certainly wasn't my evasive manuevers that saved me. Here I see Betsy, and I know she is as flash and joy as she was then. No other way for a soul like this to go, than to be what it already is.
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